Bella, be Perfect
by Aeilde Light
Summary: Bellatrix Black is the eldest daughter of her family, and her life is under the constant strain and scrutiny of her parents and what is expected of her given her pure-blood status. When you are expected to be perfect, or suffer the consequences, somethings got to give. RATED T FOR HINTS AT ANIMAL ABUSE! this is just a one shot.


**WARNING: contains strong hints of animal/insect abuse… (Bellatrix is F-ing crazy and does cruel things…)**

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"Bellatrix! How many times to I have to tell you to sit up straight!" Druella's voice rang out in the cold and empty dining hall as she admonished her daughter. Bella stopped squirming and made her back stiff as a rod at her mother's voice, well aware that disobedience could lead to a belt on her back side or a spanking. The typically quiet family meal resumed and Bella shoved her food around on her plate as discretely as she could. Her father, Cygnus, sat at the head of the table, her mother at his right hand side, sitting next to Bella. Dromeda sat at their father's left with a very young Cissy on her other side. Bella glowered at her sisters. Both were obviously fidgeting in their seats, but did their mother yell at them? No. She only yelled at Bella, the oldest, the most responsible daughter.

Bella was nine, and would be leaving for Hogwarts in a couple of years, and she was getting old enough to understand that as part of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, she had an image to maintain, just as the rest of her family did. But she often felt her mother was sometimes unnecessarily cruel about it, and often unfair. Sure, Dromeda was only seven, and little Cissy merely four, but why did they not have to be punished for acting out of turn? Bella had never once seen Cissy or Dromeda have to face their father's spankings, and even her mother seemed to yell at them softer than she did with Bella.

After dinner, Bella helped her mother with her sewing while house elves took care of the dishes silently in the kitchens. She didn't have to be told any longer when her mother needed more thread or when to hold the fabric tightly for her. These things had been learned previously through various yelling on her mother's part, and she had long ago resigned herself to doing these little chores for her mother. They were part of learning how to be a lady of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; trying to get out of it only resulted in her mother's screaming at her anyway. It was easier to just sit still and do as she was told.

She watched her sisters playing quietly next to her. Dromeda was reading a simple story book, Tales of Pure-Blood Peter, and Cissy played with a doll whose hair and features were as fair as her own. Bella sighed to herself, wishing she could be doing what she wanted, rather than kneeling here with her feet going numb, holding ugly thread for the sewing project of her mother that she could care less about. Bella felt trapped. Perfection was expected of her. Because of who she was, what she was; and because she was the oldest, and had to set the example her sisters followed. Bella looked out the window and watched a bird perched on the windowsill, preening it's feathers, which were the brilliant red of a male Cardinal. A small smile had just begun on her lips when the bird flew away again, leaving Bella feeling sour and cheated. Why was the bird allowed to fly away and go anywhere it pleased when she was stuck here? It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

That night, Bella crept out of bed and moved silently down the hall, sneaking down the stairs, her heart beating quickly. She was terrified she might get caught, but thrilled that she was getting away with something so far. She made her way to the kitchens on her bare feet cautiously, aware that some of the floor boards still had an eternal squeak to them, despite the house elves best efforts.

"Can I help you, Mistress?"

The small, high pitched voice almost made Bella jump out of her skin and scream in fright. She looked at the inquiring house elf angrily.

"Don't you ever dare scaring me like that again you little worm!" Bella managed to hiss and snarl at the same time, trying to stay quiet. The house elves were the only ones she was allowed to let her anger out on, and she often did so viciously, especially when she had been yelled at or punished earlier in the day. The elf cowered before her, trembling in its ratty towel. She shook her head, letting her dark hair resettle about her face as she calmed herself, remembering why she had come. "Fetch me a knife."

"A knife, Mistress?" the house elf asked uncertainly, his head bowed so low his nose touched the ground.

"Yes, you insolent fool. Quickly, and not a word to anyone or you shall be severely punished." Bella whispered quietly, managing to terrify the little elf more with her calm voice. The elf scampered off and returned with a small steak knife. Bella snatched it from him and quietly made her way back to her room. She closed her door quietly behind her and snuck over to her closet, pushing aside her shoes and clothes, all of which were worthy of a high born lady of her stature. She pulled out a shoe box from the very darkest, bottom corner and grinned to herself as she set it aside. Contained in the box was a spider, a special spider with a shiny black shell she had found long ago and had somehow managed to magic into a larger size over time. The spider was almost like a pet to her now, but really it was the best way she had to dispose of remains. She set the box on her bed then went onto her belly, reaching underneath her dresser for the pest catcher she had managed to nick from the house stores in the cellar a few years ago. She shook the container gently, curious what it had caught this time.

Typically, she would find a few ants in there. Every once in a while there was a fly, and one time, she had found a whole cockroach trapped for her. These insects felt her wrath at night. She had broken her last knife bringing it down too hard to decapitate one of her six legged victims, and she was looking forward to trying out her new knife, cutting off their legs one at a time and tossing them to her spider so she could watch it rush out and spin them up. Then she would typically dissect the body, bit by bit. She couldn't ever really describe to anyone the pleasure it gave her to see the little things still twitching after she had removed them from the body, and the finality of when they stopped. She gleefully opened the pest catcher, and froze upon seeing its contents. Her smile grew very wide and she quickly shut it again, not wanting to let it escape while she prepared for the mess.

She had never caught a mouse in there before.


End file.
